


Where He's Coming From

by waterbird13



Series: Tumblr Fics [95]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Abuse, College, Gen, Outsider Perspective, Poverty, Pre series, Stanford Era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-06
Updated: 2016-08-06
Packaged: 2018-07-29 16:15:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7691212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/waterbird13/pseuds/waterbird13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam's Residence Hall director is just going through move-in day motions--until she meets the kid with a black eye, split lip, and only a single duffle bag to his name.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Where He's Coming From

**Author's Note:**

> This is a piece from Tumblr.
> 
> Warnings: Outsider POV. She suspects abuse (true, in my opinion). Sam is basically impoverished when he shows up at Stanford, as well as injured. As stated, this is Stanford era, pre series.

It’s freshmen move in day, which pretty much means absolute hell, chaos all day and putting out fires. Sometimes, she hates being a Residence Hall Director.

It’s pretty much a day of smiling and going through the motions, just to get the mess over with, so she’s on auto-pilot when she asks the kid for his last name.

“Winchester.”

She digs through the files diligently to find Winchester, Samuel, and hands over his room key, his mail box key, and the six different forms he has to fill out before tomorrow morning. Then she really looks at him.

The kid has a black eye and a split lip. And sometimes eighteen year old boys are stupid, rough and tumble idiots; she sees plenty of that. But this kid looks…weary, she thinks.

“You alright?” She asks, studying that face carefully.

He pulls together a smile, even if that hurts his lip. “Me? Of course. Happy to be here, really.”

She smiles back. “Bet you are. You looking to rent a cart for your stuff?”

“Hm? Oh, no, I’m all set.”

“You sure?” She presses. “Some people think it’ll be easy to manage without, but it’s a massive pain.”

“This is all I have,” Sam admits quietly, touching the strap to his duffle. “Think I can manage.”

“The shopping trip leaves at six, then,” she says. “Bus meets out front.”

Sam’s lip quirks. “Right, thanks,” he says, and she knows right then she won’t see him on that bus tonight.

“You need any help?” She asks.

“I can probably find my room,” he says, and she’s not sure if he deliberately misconstrues what she says or if he genuinely doesn’t get why she’s so concerned. “Thanks, though.”

“Don’t forget, six o'clock,” she says, just in case. The kid doesn’t even have a pillow, and she doubts there’s blankets in that duffle.

“And hey,” she says. “If you need anything, I’m room 104. Can always knock.”

Sam smiles and thanks her again, then leaves.

She makes a mental note to keep her eye on that kid, to let his RA know to keep his eye on that kid, because wherever Sam’s coming from, it’s a place no kid should be, she can tell already.

The bruise and the cut heals, and she’s pleased to see he buys the absolute basics, because to tell the truth she spent too many hours stressing over how to get that kid some basics. He owns a pillow, at least.

“You going home?” She asks him on the last day of exams, while most of the students are gone or leaving.

He gives her a bit of a sideways look. “I am home.”

Somehow, as he shoves his pillow into the cheap duffle, managing to fit everything he owns in there and in his backpack, she doesn’t feel any better at all for hearing that.


End file.
